I come buy it honestly

In case some of you got the idea that I suddenly, after years of wearing panties and bras, decided to begin freebuffing, I need to clear some things up and this may take a few posts to do.

After my step-mom passed away, I started looking after my dad, fixing him meals, and doing his laundry. I noticed that he had no dirty underwear, so I asked him if he needed me to buy him some.

He laughed at me and said that it was pretty funny that I was asking him if he needed underwear. "I know you don't wear any yourself." (This was about ten years after I went full time) "You don't think I notice?" he asked. I admit, I blushed, hearing this from my own father.

He went on to explain that he hadn't worn underwear his entire life. His parent were very poor and even clothes and shoes were hard to come by, so underwear was out of the question (He had five brothers and four sisters.) Some of the guys laughed at him when he was in the army, but when they saw my mother, they stopped laughing at him.

My mother, it turns out, had trouble as a child with urinary tract infections, and after many trips to the doctor (which her parents couldn't afford) an old woman who lived in the area told my grandparents to get those panties off my mother and let the air get to her genitals.

When my brother was born ten years before me, the hospital had shaved my mother's pubic hair, and she and my dad enjoyed it so much, that unlike most of the other women of her era, she remained shaved and pantieless all her life.....way ahead of the rest of the world.

My mother, however, had another problem....alcohol. I remember how unpredictable she could be and often she lost her temper. I have several memories of being told to grab my ankles and having my dress pulled over my head while she beat my naked bottom with a stick....in front of anyone who happened to be in sight.

My mother, though pantieless all her life, wore these strange archtictural monstrosities that they called "bras" in the 50's. However, about the time I started wanting to wear a bra in junior high, my mother joined the women's movement by burning hers. I noticed a funny smell coming from our burn barrel one day after school. gotta go

Part II

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April 6 2011, 1:43 AM

Sorry I had to leave so abruptly on the last post, but my step-grandson just got home from work and I had to get off the computer.

So I came home one day to this strange smell coming from our burn barrel. I must have been about 13 at the time. When I went to see what was burning, there were the remnants of my mother's bras smoldering away.

After seeing her in those strange man-made trusses all my life, I was surprised by her attire when I went inside that afternoon. She was wearing a white tank top and her gorgeous breasts pushed at the thin fabric like they were trying to rip it asunder. At thirteen, I wanted to be wearing bras, but after what I saw that afternoon, I knew I wouldn't get one unless my sisters bought it for me or until I had enough money to get one myself.

She was half lit and announced that her bra-wearing days were over and that no daughter of hers would ever be caught wearing one. I must admit, at the time, my heart sank.

So, I did without, and got teased until I went in the ninth grade. Something happened that year that made me one of the most popular girls in school.....my breasts grew and grew and grew. I thought surely mom would buy me a brassiere now, but nope. No luck. The next year, many of my friends who had been so desperate to wear bras in the eighth grade were now coming to school without them!

Suddenly, I wasn't the weirdo with no underwear, I was popular! While I'd been previously trying my best to conceal my breasts, that spring, I flaunted them...to the point that I got called to the Principal's office. I was wearing a virtually backless yellow tank top that offered nothing to hide my nipples or the outline of my breasts, and my mother was called to take me home.

Never knowing what to expect from her, I was afraid she might take the switch to me in the Principals' office.
What she actually did, however, took me totally by surprise. It was a warm windy day in May, and she arrived wearing a white sleeveless cotton blouse and pink pleated skirt. I was looking out of the Principal's window when she walked up to the door. Just then a huge gust of wind lifted her skirt nearly to her neck, letting everyone in the school office know that she was sans panties and pubic hair. The front of her blouse was sheer and seemed to be wet enough that she'd been swimming in it!

When she walked in, I could tell by the smell that she was drunk again, but this time instead of hitting me, she took up my defense. I was sent to the car while she and Principal talked, and I waited in fear, not knowing what was next.

When she came out, she was grinning from ear to ear. That relaxed me quite a bit, but she had another surprise in store. She had a spray bottle in the car and completely soaked down the front of my tank top! I was nakeder than naked!

"You wearing panties?" she asked me. I was and told her so. When she asked me why, I told her that it was because I had some little cover on the days she beat me. (Of course she always made me pull them down anyway) "Take 'em off!" she demanded. I did so and handed them to her. She tossed them out the car window, and I feared a beating was in store.

However, she must have been in an extraordinarily good mood that day, because we went to the hamburger stand and stood around the car flirting with the guys. Boy were we popular that day!

But time moved on, my mother drank more and more, and I got married right out of high school. No longer wanting to feel so out of place, I bought and wore underwear like a good girl, had two daughters and got a job. My responsibilities made my panty-free days seem like a distant memory, and one I wasn't proud of.

Then a divorce followed, and I went to college, and didn't have time for fun.....and then I met my wonderful, shaved, freeballing husband. Now, twenty years later,I consider myself a full-timer, and my daughters have turned out to be wonderful young ladies, bra and panty-free and proud of it....totally without the stigma that I once felt. My oldest daughter has two children and she has informed me that they will never be required to wear underwear. If they want to, it's their decision, but they won't be forced to like so many others today.

Part III

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April 9 2011, 10:16 AM

I love my mother and I'm sure she loved me, but the alcohol made for a strained and strange relationship. Her parents owned a little general store within walking distance of my childhood home, and she worked for them off and on, for much of her life.

After she became a bra-burning, liberated woman, her mother (my grandma) was quite upset with her and wanted to ban her from the store. However, that meant that my grandparents either had to work in her place of find another employee. Reluctantly, my grandmather agreed to let her work, as long as the two of them didn't work at the same time.

My grandfather soon noticed that sales at the store began a steady climb, eventually almost doubling! And while I was still in high school, I worked in the store a few evenings a week and on weekends (also braless). My grandmother developed a permanent scowl on her face in my presence, but grandpa seemed more friendly than ever

Grandpa said business was better than ever, and I never had a problem getting a date. I sometimes got more attention than I wanted, but never felt like I was in any danger. I usually wore jeans or shorts to work--never skirts or dresses, because I had to climb ladders to access the upper shelves. My junior and senior years of high school (afer the incident at the school with my mom) I felt more comfortable going pantieless, and I often wore skirts to school.

Shortly after I got married the first time and got pregnant, my mother passed away suddenly (rumored to be a result of alcoholism) and I began the conservative stage of my life that last nearly seventeen years.

But then a wonderful, freeballing man came into my life; one that was willing to let me shave him. He loved it so much he said that he wasted twenty years of his life by not shaving his pubes. He had wanted to ever since they grew in, but said his mother had talked him out of it because of the itching.....then came the age of teenage boys where they feel they need to be hairy to be manly.

BTW, I've seen that the pantieless represent only one percent of the population. My husband always claimed to be a "one-percenter". Not sure this is what he meant.